


say that the wind won't change on us

by zhennie



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Mankai Company as Family, Memory Loss, References to drugging, References to kidnapping, Spring Troupe as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhennie/pseuds/zhennie
Summary: This is what Chigasaki Itaru knows: He's twenty-seven years old. He loves delivery pizza. He lives with Senpai.This is what Chigasaki Itaru doesn't know: everything that came before.(a chikaita fic ft. itaru with memory loss)
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru & Utsuki Chikage, Chigasaki Itaru/Utsuki Chikage
Comments: 20
Kudos: 140





	say that the wind won't change on us

His name is Chigasaki Itaru.

He’s twenty-seven years old, loves delivery pizza, and is laughably out of shape. Last week, Senpai had suggested that they start running in the morning together, and Itaru had given him a look so scathing that Senpai hadn’t stopped laughing for almost five minutes straight. 

_You’re so mean, Senpai_ , Itaru had scowled, and Senpai had just smiled the smile Itaru knew was only for him. 

_I can’t help it,_ Senpai had replied, _you’re such a cute brat_. 

He doesn’t know Senpai’s real name. In fact, Itaru doesn’t know much of anything besides his current existence. The first thing he can remember is Senpai leaning over him, his hand resting gently on his forehead, and a feeling of, rather than panic at being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar person, a feeling of safety and security. 

_Itaru,_ Senpai had said, relief laced through every part of him. 

_Who are you?_ Itaru had asked bluntly, and something had crumbled in Senpai’s eyes for a second, a fleeting glance into some inner turmoil Itaru hadn’t--wasn’t--quite able to grasp.

 _I’m your senpai,_ he’d replied, simply.

That had been the beginning. Itaru had hoped, after that first day, that he would start to get his memories back, but they had stubbornly continued to elude him, and whenever Itaru asked, Senpai gave cryptic, but ultimately unhelpful answers.

 _I promised you once that I would never lie to you again,_ Senpai had said, _but at the same time, there’s a past you’re better off not knowing_.

And it’s not that Itaru can accept that, or not accept that. Logic says that he should be suspicious of Senpai, of the fact that soon after he’d woken up, Senpai had taken him and moved them to a different apartment building in a neighborhood Itaru didn’t know--not that he knew the one he’d woken up in--and asked him to avoid going outside unless it was necessary. But Senpai also brought him his favorite delivery pizza, and woke him up every morning before going out, and sometimes, held Itaru with such desperation, his entire body trembling. Sometimes, when Itaru looks at Senpai, he’s filled with a sense of dread, and his own desperation. _Someday, this man will leave_ , his thoughts tell him. _Someday, this man will leave me_ , they say. Either way, Itaru doesn’t have enough evidence either way to know what he should do, so he remains here, in this sparse apartment. 

He finds himself restless most of the day, fingers itching to do something he doesn’t quite recognize, and Itaru has paced every corner of this apartment trying to find something to satisfy the urge of something his body remembers, but his mind has forgotten. He’s poured through Senpai’s small library--maybe he’s itching for the turning of a page, the feeling of a book in his hands--but most of Senpai’s books are in a language Itaru can’t read, and the few he can don’t do anything for him. He’s tried writing, drawing, but his fingers are clumsy in a way that Itaru knows means neither his body nor his mind know, and he crumples and throws away the rough, uncoordinated sketches of a courtyard he’s never seen before. 

_You don’t have to do anything, you know_ , Senpai had said, when Itaru had expressed his frustration and tried to explain his itchy fingers. 

_Is that supposed to make me happy?_ Itaru had demanded back in return, and Senpai had sighed, turning away.

 _It might have, before_ , he had said instead, and Itaru had scowled, storming away to sit out on their little veranda and sulk, as Senpai put it.

\--

He’s decided to try cooking today. Maybe what Itaru’s itchy fingers long for is the feeling of a kitchen knife in his hand, chopping vegetables and holding pots and pans. Senpai might have told him not to leave the apartment unless absolutely necessary, but it is absolutely necessary to have ingredients in order to cook. Itaru knows where the emergency cash is, and he’s fairly certain that there will be a supermarket close by. 

With an unknown degree of optimism that he doesn’t exactly dare to think about in detail, Itaru leaves the apartment, squaring his shoulders and pushing up his glasses, and as he weaves his way further and further down the street, begins to treat each split of the road like a game, trying to remember the combination of directions--right, left, right, right, straight. He’s pleased to find that it does look like he’s heading into town, as houses and apartments give way to storefronts, and as Itaru turns, looking for the supermarket he’s sure must be around here, his eye catches the flashing lights of something--an arcade? 

He’s moving before he knows it, passing through the doors and into a place that is dark and bright at the same time, a place that feels familiar, somehow. The electronic sounds of game theme songs overlap one another in harmony, and Itaru finds himself hesitating when he had moved without question before. He knows this place. Not this place exactly, perhaps, but some place just like it. It gives him the same type of sense that Senpai does--a familiarity in body, if not memory, and briefly, Itaru thinks about the supermarket. But he already knows, as it goes through his head, that cooking wouldn’t have solved the itch in his hands anyways, and then he’s fumbling with the cash he had brought, exchanging it for tokens, and picking a machine at random. 

It’s a simple fighting game, and Itaru may not remember anything, but his hands fit to the buttons and on the joystick easily, his body moving in easy, practiced motions. The match is over in a flash--and then again, before the screen flashes that he’s gotten a high score, and prompts him to enter his initials. ITR, he selects, before frowning, and going back. TRC, he finally decides on, and enters it with a firm button press. The pixel letters flashing at him fills Itaru with a sense of triumph he hasn’t felt since he’d woken up, and with a little ‘ _yes!’_ to himself, Itaru gets up from the machine. His hands don’t itch anymore. 

Itaru spends the rest of the afternoon wandering from machine to machine in the arcade, filling the high score lists with TRC after TRC, before he realizes, with a startle, that it’s almost time for Senpai to come home. He hurries back after that, hands empty of groceries and pockets empty of cash, but lighter than he’s been in a long time. His memory of the route back is perfect--straight, left, left, right, left--and he returns home not long before Senpai does.

“You seem happy today,” Senpai says, and Itaru just smiles.

“Am I? I wonder,” he says. Senpai is so tied into Itaru’s life at this point, and knows so much about his past that he himself doesn’t know, that it fills Itaru with a sense of excitement to know that there’s something he doesn’t know. Itaru wants to relish it, cherish it in the way only someone who is dependent on someone else can. He’ll probably tell Senpai at some point--at some point, he’ll have to confess what happened to the emergency cash--but for now, it’s fine to keep things the way they are. 

\--

The next day, and the day after, find Itaru at the arcade again, until he’s going every day after Senpai leaves for whatever Senpai does during the day. And Itaru is running low on the emergency cash when he discovers an ingenious way to solve the dwindling money problem--competing with other arcade goers for money. It’s just a few hundred yen here and there, and honestly, probably illegal, but by this point, Itaru’s also made friends with the arcade workers, and besides, the “Unbeatable Gamer God” is beginning to draw larger crowds to this small arcade. It fills Itaru with a lightness and a sense of purpose he hasn’t felt before--at least, not in this memory card, and this, in turn, makes him feel like even if he never gets his memory back or Senpai never tells him anything, he’ll still be okay. 

Of course, that’s when things change. Itaru comes back from another fruitful day at the arcade as his next door neighbor is leaving the apartment, and she lets out a surprised ‘oh!’ when she sees Itaru fumble for his key. Itaru startles at the noise, and turns to look at the woman, who gives a little dip of her head apologetically. 

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just about to leave you a note--someone came by looking for you, earlier.” 

“Me?” Itaru asks, dumbfounded. 

“He left a number,” the woman says, and pats around her pocket, before pulling out a folded piece of paper, which she holds out to him.

“Thanks,” Itaru says, unfolding the paper and looking down at it.

_April, call me. XXX-XXXX-XXXX_

Itaru doesn’t know what this message means. He doesn’t know anything about who he is or what dangers he faces, so he doesn’t have a choice but to tell Senpai about the message when he comes home that night. 

Senpai reads the note. Puts it down. Picks it up and reads it again. It’s the most uncomposed Itaru has ever seen Senpai, if he’s being honest. 

“Did you see the person who left this note?” Senpai asks. 

“No,” Itaru says, a truth. “I went to take the trash out and our neighbor gave me it.” A half-truth. Senpai scrutinizes him, and Itaru stares back without fear.

“Are you going to call?” Itaru asks. 

“I don’t know,” Senpai replies, which sounds surprisingly truthful. “I shouldn’t. If Dec--if he knows where we are...we should probably leave.” 

“What?” Itaru asks, sharp. He would be lying, again, if he said the first thing that came to mind wasn’t his days at the arcade that had filled him with purpose--a feeling and purpose he hadn’t told Senpai, yet. 

“If he knows, others will know too,” Senpai says, and crumples up the note. 

\--

Senpai doesn’t go out the next day, which means Itaru doesn’t go out to the arcade, either. Instead, the two of them shuffle around the apartment aimlessly, each of them looking at the door with equal restless frequency--Senpai probably with wariness, Itaru can only assume. For his part, he’s thinking about all the people he could be battling right now, all the games he could be playing. There’s a tense atmosphere that Itaru comments on, idly, and Senpai calls him a brat with an annoyed look that is so normal Itaru can almost forget they both seem to be waiting for something to happen.

It’s almost a relief when the doorbell does ring, and in one swift motion, Senpai is up and at the door. His left hand twists the doorknob, and his right hand hovers by his waist, poised to act, although Itaru cannot identify with what action he’s ready to take. The door opens a sliver, and then a wedge, and then completely, and there is a slight, pale man standing in the doorway. He looks like he has just woken up, and might fall back asleep if he isn’t careful. 

“Chik--” the man begins, but Senpai cuts him off. 

“December,” he says, emphatically, “I thought it might be you.” His voice is neutral, and his back is turned to Itaru, so he can’t see Senpai’s expression. But he can see the other man’s, who’s sleepy eyes flicker from Senpai, to the inside of the apartment--to Itaru. 

“....we should talk,” the man says, finally.

“Yes,” Senpai says, “we should.”

The two of them retreat to the office for hours, and Itaru briefly contemplates--more than once--eavesdropping in on their conversation. He doesn’t know what stops him. Respect for privacy? Trust in Senpai? A feeling that even if he were to unlock this event flag, it wouldn’t provide any good results? 

Either way, they’re done before Itaru can make a decision either way, and the pale man stops as he passes by the couch where Itaru is sitting and looks at him intensely for a moment.

“Take care, Itaru-san,” the man says, quietly, and then he slips away, soundlessly in a way that Itaru had only associated with Senpai, previously. 

“Who was that?” Itaru asks Senpai. 

“Someone important to us,” Senpai replies, “he’s helped us. He’s still helping us.”

“....help us with what?” Itaru asks, still confused. Senpai comes over, soundless as the man who had just left, and reaches out, grasping Itaru and pulling him close. His arms are firm around Itaru, and instinctively, Itaru wraps his own arms back around Senpai to grasp at Senpai’s broad, warm back.

“Everything is going to be alright,” Senpai says, and Itaru isn’t sure if he’s talking to Itaru or himself. 

\--

The next day, Senpai wakes him up as normal, and leaves the apartment as normal, as if the blip of yesterday’s visitor hadn’t happened. And as usual, Itaru heads out to the arcade not long after Senpai has left as well, humming mindlessly. He wonders who he’ll encounter today, and how many games he can fill his day with. When he gets to the arcade, there’s a crowd already gathered around someone else by Itaru’s favorite fighting game--which means, of course, Itaru has to see exactly who it is that’s drawing such a crowd. 

“Hell yeah!” The player yells as he executes a particularly difficult--and powerful--combo, the screen flashing his victory. He looks young and a little wild looking, and is clearly good at this game--almost as good as Itaru himself. So of course, when he turns around with a shit-eating grin on his face, shouting into the crowd, “alright, who wants to challenge me next?!” Itaru steps forward, his own cocky grin on his own face.

“I’ll take you on,” Itaru says, as cool as he can muster. The boy turns towards the sound of his voice, grin widening as he does so. 

“Great, happy to wipe the--Itaru-san?”

The grin falls off the boy’s face as their eyes meet, and Itaru’s own smile falters, taken aback by the recognition on his face--and the lack of recognition in his own memory.

“What the hell,” the boy spits out, pushing himself off the chair, “where have you been, Itaru-san? You’ve been missing for months!” As he advances, Itaru backs up, his hands coming out in front of him, as if he can ward off this boy who is pushing him forward. 

“I--” Itaru starts, and glances at the crowd that had surrounded this boy, and now are looking at them with interest. “I don’t know who you are,” Itaru says, half confesses. The boy pauses, mid-advance, and looks at him, suspicion and accusation laced on his face. 

“Huh?” He scoffs, “what’s that supposed to mea--” He stops again, and looks at Itaru, really looks at him like it’s the first time. 

“Fuck,” he says instead, “you’re serious.”

Itaru gives a little half smile, a little half-shrug. “You may know me,” Itaru says, “but I have no idea who you are.” 

“I--” the boy looks at him again, and then reaches out, grabbing the front of Itaru’s shirt. “Come with me,” he says instead, as Itaru lets out a little ‘ah!’ of surprise, and then he’s being dragged through the arcade and out, the other boy navigating around town with an ease that Itaru can’t help but contrast with that first day he’d ventured outside the apartment. Itaru is pulled into a cafe, shoved into a seat, and the other boy has whipped out the menu and ordered for both of them before Itaru can even fully process what’s going on. 

“You didn’t let me order,” Itaru complains. 

“You’ll like it,” the boy replies, “I know what you like.” 

“...do you?” Itaru asks, “I don’t even know your name.” 

“I’m Settsu Banri,” the boy finally introduces himself, “I’m--you’re--ah, hell. We’re friends, Itaru-san.” 

“Banri…” Itaru tests it out, and the name rolls off his tongue easily. But as always, while his body and his mouth might remember, his mind is nothing but blank. He gives another half shrug, as if to say sorry for his mind’s failing.

“What, seriously?” Banri exclaims, “what the fuck happened to you, Itaru-san?” 

“I lost my memory,” Itaru says, and then pauses. “Banri,” he asks, “what do you know about me?”

\--

His name is Chigasaki Itaru. 

He’s twenty-seven years old, loves delivery pizza, and is laughably out of shape. He also loves games of all kinds, and used to work at a trading company. He’s an actor with Mankai Company’s Spring Troupe. He treasured that troupe, and all of Mankai Company, as family. 

He’s been missing for six months.

Banri has pictures on his phone, pictures of the two of them in what Itaru assumes is Mankai’s dorms, sitting on the couch with controllers in hand, standing on the stage in costume, posing with groups of other people that Itaru doesn’t recognize, except--

“Oh, Senpai,” Itaru pauses, finger poised over one of Banri’s pictures. Senpai looks the exact same in that picture, his arm draped over Itaru’s shoulders, a fond, unguarded look on his face.

“You remember Chikage-san, but you don’t remember me?” Banri complains, “damn, he would be so smug to hear that. But...he’s been missing too.” 

“No,” Itaru says, “Senpai is here--he was there when I woke up and didn’t remember anything.” 

“Really?” Banri looks taken aback by that. “Did he lose his memory too?” 

“No…he’s been taking care of me,” Itaru says, and the more he thinks about it, the more discomforted he gets. From the pictures--from Banri’s own reaction to seeing him again, Itaru--Itaru and Senpai both had a home. They had a family, a place that they could return to. But yet, they weren’t there. They were here.

“What happened to me?” Itaru asks out loud. 

“I don’t know, man,” Banri says, looking a little discomforted himself, “...Itaru-san, come back with me. Director-chan and Sakyo will know what to do about you, and it’s not like we don’t have any experience dealing with amnesiacs. You belong with Mankai--you belong home. Spring Troupe hasn’t been the same without you--without Chikage, either.” 

“....I need to understand,” Itaru answers, looking down at Banri’s phone, which he still holds, the picture of him, and Chikage, and others surrounding them, happy and loving. 

“You’re not going back, are you?” Banri exclaims, as Itaru stands up, setting the phone and its memories back down.

“Thank you, Banri,” Itaru says instead. 

“Oi!” Banri raises his voice, but Itaru continues walking, his mind reeling and his head beginning to hurt. 

The ache only grows as he wanders his way around this town, slowly, slowly making his way back to the apartment. Senpai’s smiling face. Banri’s grief and shock. These thoughts swarm through Itaru’s mind, and it’s only when he returns to the apartment that he realizes how late it is--Senpai’s shoes are lined up in the entryway, and the sun is setting behind him, casting his shadow from the doorway into the apartment--the place he’s called home for all these months, not knowing he had another home to go to either.

“Itaru,” Senpai’s voice, sharp, startles Itaru from his shoe staring, and Itaru looks up into his sharp--worried?--face.

“Where have you been?” Senpai asks, “I told you, it’s not safe for you to--”

“Senpai,” Itaru says, and something in his voice makes Senpai stop talking. “Was I--were we--actors?” 

“...do you remember?” Senpai asks instead.

“...no,” Itaru replies, and finally now, confesses, “i’ve been going to the arcade, while you’ve been out during the day.” 

“Are you serious,” Senpai says flatly, but somehow, unsurprised at the same time, like he was expecting this development to happen sooner or later. 

“I met someone while I was there today,” Itaru continues, “someone who I didn’t know, but who knew me.” 

“It was Settsu, wasn’t it,” Senpai says, his voice still flat.

“Senpai,” Itaru says, “what happened to me?”

Senpai is still for a moment, two moments, and his expression is like a reckoning when he turns back to look at Itaru. 

“I should have known,” he says, instead. 

“Senpai!” Itaru exclaims. He’s tired, so tired, of not knowing who he is and looking for pieces to plug himself back up. 

“Your favorite game series was the Knights of Round series,” Senpai says abruptly, “and you’ve always been partial to fairy tales. So, instead, let me tell you one now, Itaru. Once upon a time, a knight fell in love with a sorcerer who was once evil. While others might have shunned the sorcerer for what he had done, the knight held out his hand to the sorcerer and accepted him completely. The two of them fell in love, and lived happily. But the sorcerer had enemies still, and one day, those enemies stole the knight away. The sorcerer used every dark magic he had forsaken to find the knight, tearing the kingdom apart until he did find him. But it was too late—the sorcerer’s enemies had stolen the knight’s heart, and left him a shell of the man the sorcerer had fallen in love with. But the sorcerer believed that the knight, at his core, was still the knight. And the sorcerer, at his core, was still the sorcerer.”

“What the hell does that mean,” Itaru asks, as everything crashes together in him--his mind, spotty and full of blank spots, Settsu Banri’s shock at seeing him, the things that made sense and everything that didn’t. Senpai’s confession, wrapped up in another goddamn cryptic story.

“What happened to me?!” Itaru’s voice rises. 

“Closing night of Spring Troupe’s last play, you were kidnapped,” Senpai says, “by some of my enemies. It doesn’t matter who. You didn’t know them before, and you won’t know them now. But it was my fault. I got to you as fast as I could, but they’d already given it to you--the amnesia drug.”

“I made a decision,” he continues, not looking at Itaru, “that I would protect you, in whatever way I needed to.” 

“So you took me away from my home?” Itaru demands. 

“You know, you once called me your home,” Senpai--no, Chikage--says, his voice distant. 

Itaru jerks, abrupt as a _tch_ leaves his mouth, sudden. He turns away, wrenches open the door, and slams it behind him as he leaves. 

Chikage doesn’t try to stop him.

\--

It’s a really dumb decision. For one thing, Itaru doesn’t exactly know his way around town, except to the arcade. For another thing, Itaru doesn’t exactly have a lot of money on him, either. But what else was he supposed to do in that moment, with that revelation? He has maybe 1000 yen on him, the money he was going to use to keep him going through a whole day of playing people at games, but he guesses, now that he should use that to get himself something to eat.

“Itaru-san!” 

Itaru turns at the exclamation, and there is a baby-faced boy looking at him, eyes wide. 

“Itaru-san!” the boy cries, running towards him, “I can’t believe it! It’s really you!” 

“Ah,” Itaru says, slowly, “I’m sorry, I don’t--”

“Sakuma Sakuya,” the boy says, bowing politely, “sorry! Banri-kun came back and explained. I’m your--the Mankai Company Spring Troupe leader.” 

“Sakuya-kun…” Itaru tries out, and Sakuya looks at him hopefully. Itaru tries a smile, and shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry,” he says, “that doesn’t ring any bells.” Sakuya’s expression droops, a little, but then he breathes in, and smiles at Itaru again.

“That’s okay!” Sakuya says, “I’m really glad you’re okay, Itaru-san.” 

“Sakuya-kun, I’ve been wondering,” Itaru says, “is Mankai Company located around here, somewhere?” Has Chikage kept them close, but far, for all these months? 

“Ah, no,” Sakuya says, “the theater is located in Veludo Way, but we do regional performances. Autumn Troupe just ended their newest play, and they’re touring it around now, and Spring Troupe and I came along to lend them a hand. Who would have thought that this is where we would see you again!” 

“I see,” Itaru says, and, with excellent timing, his stomach growls. 

“Itaru-san,” Sakuya says, “are you hungry? Do you want to get some dinner?” 

He takes Sakuya up on the offer, of course. Itaru may be a man of pride--or maybe not. Who knows, at this point--but he is also highly aware that his stomach is more important than his pride, in this case. Itaru tells Sakuya the whole story, and Sakuya, in turn, tells him what the Spring Troupe was like--Masumi, who loved the director, Tsuzuru, who wrote their scripts, Citron, who always set the mood and provided good cheer to them. 

“We tried to take on new members to replace you and Chikage-san,” Sakuya says, “but….it didn’t work out.” He smiles wryly, twisting a paper straw wrapper in his hand. “We just couldn’t forget you two.”

“Ah, but no pressure!” Sakuya says, eyes widening and coming up to meet Itaru’s suddenly, “you don’t have to come back if you don’t want to! Chikage-san….Itaru-san….your reasons for leaving...” 

“Hey, Sakuya-kun,” Itaru asks, suddenly, “what do you think I should do? I might never get my memory back, and I might never be the Chigasaki Itaru that you all knew again.” 

“That’s okay,” Sakuya says, immediately and without wavering, “we’ll accept you.” 

“Why?” Itaru asks. 

“Because,” Sakuya says, “you, me, Chikage-san, the rest of Spring Troupe, all of Mankai...we’re family.”

\--

“I’m home,” Itaru announces. 

There is a moment of silence, as he shuffles around in the entryway, and then Chikage pads around the corner, in a strange mirror of the previous day, and his face fills with surprise to see Itaru.

“What?” Itaru asks, “something wrong?”

“I wasn’t sure….if you were going to come back,” Chikage says, honest. 

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” Itaru asks, raising his eyebrows and stepping into the apartment--home, although not the only home he’s ever known.

“...welcome home,” Chikage replies, like accepting a benediction. 

“Hey, Senpai?” Itaru asks.

“Yes?” 

“Will you come with me to the arcade?” 

“The arcade?” Senpai repeats, reluctance on his face.

“I want to play a game against you,” Itaru says, “like a final boss battle.” 

“Are you the final boss in this game?” Chikage asks. Itaru tilts his head.

“No, I don’t think so. But I think you're the final boss of my game” he finally decides. Chikage shrugs at that, and steps forward, toeing his feet into his shoes. The two of them are quiet as they walk down the path that is now familiar to Itaru, letting the morning air hang between them. 

“Where did you go last night?” Chikage asks, “I hope you weren’t out at the arcade all night.” 

“I wish,” Itaru replies, “it closes at midnight. I ran into our troupe leader. He treated me to dinner and then took me to see the Autumn Troupe’s show.” 

“I see,” Chikage says, neutral, and they’ve taken another few steps before he asks, with curiosity, “was it good?” 

“Yeah,” Itaru replies readily, “have they always been like that?”

“Since I’ve known them,“ Chikage replies.

“Hmm,” Itaru vocalizes, “Sakuya-kun took me back to the hotel they’re all staying at afterwards. I met--remet?--the rest of Spring Troupe. We all piled in the same bed and slept together.” 

“Let me guess, it was Sakuya-kun’s idea?” Chikage asks, and there is definitely a smile in his voice now. 

“Yeah,” Itaru says, and he smiles too. “Ah, we’re here.” He looks up at the arcade sign, into the deep cavern of the building, the lights calling his name. 

“Do I get to pick the game?” Chikage asks.

“Of course not,” Itaru replies brightly, “I’m the final boss, so you have to beat me at my own game.” Chikage hums at that, as Itaru looks around, scrutinizing each machine he’s played over the past few weeks.

“I used to call you a cheat character, didn’t I?” Itaru says, more than asks, “so that’s a +1 buff to you in addition to your -1 for no game choice. I’m also an unbeatable pro gamer, +1 to me, but amnesia means I can’t access any of my special skills, -1. So it evens out. Ah, let’s play this one.” 

It’s only fitting, Itaru thinks as he points at the first fighting game he had played, the first day he ventured out of the apartment, and he slides into the seat, looking up at Chikage expectantly. 

“Alright,” Chikage agrees easily, taking his place at the machine across from the one Itaru is sitting at. They’re quiet, though, as they insert their tokens, select their characters, wait for the game to load.

“Don’t go easy on me, Senpai,” Itaru warns.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Chikage replies, and then they’re off. He’s a hard opponent, and Itaru loses the first round.

“Ah, fuck,” Itaru scowls, and he can hear Chikage’s laugh from the other side. Itaru’s eyes narrow, and he executes a particularly nasty combo, winning him round two. 

They’re both quiet now in the last round, sizing each other up in these last moments. Then they’re moving, and Itaru is yelling outwardly, while he forces his fingers faster, mashes buttons harder, until the last sliver of Chikage’s health bar slips away. Itaru doesn’t look at his own health bar, holding on for dear life. 

“Daaaamn,” Banri says, “that was close, Itaru-san. You’re out of practice.” Itaru scowls.

“I’ll beat you next,” he declares, and Banri has the nerve to laugh in his face. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Banri goads.

“Chikage-san!” Sakuya says, and Itaru stands up, moving himself into Chikage’s line of sight. They’re all there. Banri, and Sakuya, and Masumi and Tsuzuru and Citron, and the rest of Autumn Troupe who Itaru still has to, and will, relearn. 

“What are you all doing here?” Chikage asks, exasperation in his voice, but also, perhaps, a bit of relief as well. 

“I asked them to come,” Itaru says, “because Senpai...I need to go home. I need to be with my family. Maybe I’ll get my memories back, maybe I never will. But I need to do it with these people besides me. I don’t need you to protect me, or keep promises that you made me a long time ago.” 

“I see,” Chikage says, simply, and pushes himself off the stool he’d been sitting on, “so that’s why it’s a final boss battle. Well, if that’s the case, Itaru, then I don’t see-”

“But,” Itaru says, raising his voice, “I do want you to do those things. I want you to keep protecting me, and I want to hold on to your promises, and cherish them like I do you. You’re my family too, aren’t you Senpai?” He holds out his hand, and Chikage stares at it for a moment. For a second, Itaru is hit with an old fear, one that he hasn’t acknowledged in a while, one that has existed in him long before he had lost his memory-- _this man will leave me one day_. 

But Chikage reaches out, and grasps Itaru’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the musical hadestown. 
> 
> thank you to lily for betaing even though this isn't your fandom.


End file.
